


Delusive Serenity

by JulietRoses



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Abusive Reginald Hargreeves, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Depression, Drug Addiction, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt Klaus, Hurt No Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Please Don't Hate Me, Pre-Season/Series 01, Undetailed Prostitution, Wingfic, no beta we die like men, this one is really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietRoses/pseuds/JulietRoses
Summary: “His sobriety wasn’t the only thing the ghosts had taken from him; they’d also taken the beauty of his soul with them.”In a world where your wings are a visual representation of your soul, Klaus’s addiction takes a bigger toll than it should. His wings pay the price for the betrayals, the loneliness, and the hurt.(Pure angst with an up for interpretation, unresolved ending)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Delusive Serenity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> Thank you for clicking on my story! The idea of the wings in this story is not my own. This story was inspired by the prompt of wings representing the soul, which I’ve seen many times and on many different sites. Unfortunately, I don’t know who thought of it first, but this is my take on it. 
> 
> Warning: this one is very sad with no real comfort whatsoever. Please heed the tags. (I’m still new to the tag system, so if you notice anything you would have like tagged, please tell me!)
> 
> Finally, English isn’t my native language, and I don’t have a beta reader either. I’ve put my work through multiple grammar checks, but there’s a chance some errors made it through. I’m sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes I might have made. I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway! 
> 
> ~ Juliet

The screams were suffocating him. The darkness was swallowing him. Was this some twisted kind of punishment? Was dad experimenting again? Or maybe his father was just entertaining himself with some pastime torture, Klaus wouldn’t put it past him. He just didn’t know what he’d done wrong this time.

Another Ghost came up to his face, screaming words of abuse to an eight-year-old boy. Tears ran from Klaus’s tightly shut eyes. As he pressed his hands even harder against his ears, he wondered if he could pass out from squeezing his head too hard. It certainly felt like it right now.

He couldn’t even remember how long he’d been here. Time often feels slower, decelerated, when nothing was happening. Especially when you were in a constant state of stress. That cursed door could have been locked for one hour or for five. Deep down, Klaus knew it was the latter.

Someone would come, right? He has six siblings. There had to be one of them who noticed he was gone. One who would mention his absence and ask his family for help searching. And as soon as they went out to the garden far enough, his screaming would be like a beacon, right?

Another hour passed, or so Klaus guessed. Nobody had come for him yet. It had been expected since Klaus had fallen silent a while ago. His throat had been too sensitive and raw from screaming too long. He wasn’t going to add to his own torture any longer.

Nobody would find him now in a mausoleum. Nobody would expect their dad to steep so low, to take something so far.

Klaus was drifting now, his body giving over to a stress-induced rest passable as sleep. As he was about to give over to the unconsciousness completely, he heard footsteps approaching.

Immediately, he tried screaming again, but all that came out was a mockery of a croak. To Klaus’s relief, the footsteps kept approaching; they were even getting closer. Someone could be heard fiddling with the door outside, the sounds of locks opening disrupting the constant screams around him.

He didn’t get up, just kept laying down in the dirty corner of the darkroom.

Please let it be one of his siblings.

Metal scraped loudly over the cold stone floor as the heavy doors opened. A familiar silhouette appeared in the door opening. Klaus looked up fearfully.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Number Four.”

How could that sentence feel like such a lie? Klaus had never felt less living and less welcomed back. But he still tried to get up, still tried to show the respect their father always demanded.

“Can I go now?” Klaus asked, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. He didn’t succeed.

“Have you overcome your fear of the dead?”

What kind of question was that? Even at eight years old he could realize that his dad had no say in this because Reginald could never come close to imagining what Klaus was seeing in there. The question was unrealistic in itself. Where there truly people with no fear of the dead at all? Would the one person confronted with death’s most horrific cases on a daily basis, ever be capable of being one of those people?

Klaus still nodded eagerly, trying to convince his dad without exposing his anxiety.

“You must become the master of your own life, Number Four. Or it will become the master of you.”

“Please I wanna go home!” Klaus begged, knowing where this conversation was leading to.

He just stood there. The psychopath just stood there looking at him, clearly unimpressed with what he saw. “Three more hours,” was all his father said before turning around.

Klaus’s mind stopped. He just wanted a hug from mom or Diego. He just wanted someone to come and help him. He wanted light, warmth, and food. He just wanted silence. Was that too much to ask?

Absently, he noticed himself scream “No!” in one last desperate attempt of escape.

His father still left him.

Klaus summoned his wings, wrapping them around him and in doing so properly cutting him off from his surroundings. This was the first time he noticed a slight droop to them, a certain sadness displayed only in his wings.

He didn’t like it.

⁂

The day Ben died started Klaus’s road to self-destruction. The pain caused by the sudden death of number six was visible in everyone.

As customary, everyone’s wings were out during the funeral. Everyone’s but Reginald’s, of whom the siblings sometimes suspected he didn’t even have a soul, nor wings to represent it. But during the funeral, the wings of every sibling were drooped and dull. It was a stark contrast to the shine and vibrancy they held just a week ago. The siblings knew it wouldn’t be permanent. Grief may never go away completely, but it will lessen with time. Usually, a soul will recover.

When Klaus stood in front of the mirror that night watching his once vividly blue and purple wings hang lifelessly behind him, he knew the brightness they once held would never return. Because behind him in the mirror, he could see a flickering version of his brother appear.

Confusion and pain filled Ben’s face as he slowly realized the reason for his ghostly appearance. And for the first time ever, Klaus was lost for words.

Telling his siblings the next day was something Klaus still regretted to this day. Living in ignorance and denial was better than having it confirmed to your face that your family will never take you seriously. But when his siblings had started to think so low of him that they thought he could lie about the ghost of their dead brother, Klaus would never know. And the hurt, he would never forget.

Nor did his wings.

The once extremely colored wings, which had positively glowed in the barest of light, now seemed lusterless. Klaus’s pride and joy, the wings he’d worn out everywhere – because they portrayed his identity and individuality perfectly when contrasted to all the white, grey, brown, and black colored wings on the street – were now only out on rare occasions.

Ben’s phantom presence was a constant reminder of the brother he’d lost and who was – probably thanks to Klaus – unable to move on to the great unknown. The looks he got from talking to air, were a constant reminder of his family’s hurtful unbelieving words.

Still, Klaus would never trade his brother’s everlasting companionship for anything in the world. Not even his wings. Because even Klaus could see that Ben’s friendship would later become his anchor in this cruel world.

⁂

The first feathers fell out when he tried cocaine for the first time. He’d known this might happen, it was a cautionary tale told to all the children, the Umbrella Academy included. While soft drugs were unhealthy and dangerous, hard drugs showed such negligence to your physical and mental health that they could damage your wings.

Klaus couldn’t help it. The ghosts were becoming too much. A mass so big, it became impossible for Klaus to handle and come out sane. The weed was not enough, the high too simple and short for the ghost to properly disappear. And over time, the ghosts seemed to build immunity for all soft drugs.

Klaus was proud of how long he’d lasted anyway. Stealing painkillers at age thirteen had already created expectations of extensive drug use at a young age. Nobody had thought Klaus would survive three years without falling to the temptation of more than Marijuana and hallucinogens.

Unfortunately, the method had met its expiring date now.

Klaus’s only option seemed to be to search out hard drugs. And so he did.

The cocaine’s high was electrifying, and seeing all the screaming ghosts disappear was a feeling unparalleled.

Yet the sight of seeing two of his feathers flutter to the ground made him ache somewhere deep within him. Ben’s face of horror did not help. Alas, the drugs he would never give up. His escape instincts were stronger than his self-preservation instincts.

⁂

The clean white walls and sheets seemed to be mocking Klaus. They were showing Klaus that even overdosing would leave him in a better place than he was in before. And was that not the wrong message to send? Klaus couldn’t help but treasure the warmth the hospital sheets offered him, the protection the secure walls around him gave him instead of the dangerous alleys.

Klaus was probably the only one on Earth who would rather stay in the hospital. He didn’t have anywhere else to go anyway.

The overdose did scare Klaus, though. It reminded him of how close his life-style brought him to death on a daily basis. And if Klaus had to name the one thing he feared most of all, it would be death. Nothing can be worse than being stuck on the mortal plane, a ghost of your old self and slowly losing more and more of your identity. Until one day, you’re nothing more than a vengeful spirit driving a homeless nineteen-year-old boy to a drug overdose.

Ben was standing in the corner, a tear running over his cheek.

“I thought you’d died.”

The only thing Ben got in response was an emotionless chuckle.

“Klaus, please,” Ben begged. “Promise me you won’t do this again, that you’ll be careful next time. I’ve never felt so helpless before. You were dying in front of me and I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even shout for help. I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m still here.” Klaus’s voice was hoarser than he’d expected.

Even in the bed, he could feel Ben’s eyes as they checked him over. He knew what Ben would see, what he would conclude. A boy whiter than the sheets he was lying in, face sunken in with stress, fatigue, and hunger. Dilated pupils drowning out the green of his iris in his bloodshot eyes. He would look like the failure he was.

“How am I gonna afford all this?” Klaus whispered, gesturing to the private room around him.

“The hospital called dad. Only Pogo would answer. He will foot the bill, although his tone made it clear that this would be the only time.”

Klaus sighed in relief.

The door of the room opened slowly. A black-haired boy appeared, looking into the room hesitantly.

“Diego?”

“Klaus? You’re okay! Luther overheard Pogo talking to the hospital. I came as soon as I heard!” Diego rambled, running up to the bed and sinking into the nearest chair.

Klaus hadn’t seen Diego since he’d left the academy on an impulse decision at age sixteen. They were nineteen now. Diego had grown taller and filled out a bit, he was sporting a fair bit of muscle. His hair was cut shorter too. A light stubble could even be seen on his face, but instead of making him seem tired and unshaven, it made him even more charming. All in all, Diego looked good.

“Are you okay? Are you in any pain?”

Klaus looked up at the question. He was always in a bit of pain now, a phantom ache on his back around the bald spots he knew he now sported on his wings. But he wouldn’t tell Diego that. Not when Diego’s wings were so proudly on display, flawless and strong. They were beautiful.

The feathers were perfectly straight. Somehow Diego had accomplished it to make the deep black glow even in the minimal light coming from the curtained windows. Diego’s wings were the example of society’s perfect wings. They spoke of the great bodily health his brother so often boasted about when they were younger.

Klaus shook his head, opting to go for a joke instead. “I’m still as high as a kite, really don’t feel anything right now.” It was a lie; they both knew it.

Diego didn’t appreciate it. “Klaus, what you’re doing has to stop. It’s gotten past dangerous and into fatal territory. We, your family and I, care about you. We don’t want to see you like this.”

‘If you didn’t want to see me like this, why did you show up?’ Klaus thought bitterly. A part of him, however, hoped Diego would stay here, offer him a place to stay tonight. He longed for someone to just help him, give him something to focus on.

“We’ve found a Rehab Center for you. It’s perfect. It’s nearby, has good reviews, and a high success rate.”

Klaus had to suppress the physical flinch threatening to escape. His siblings wanted to ship him off and lock him away in a center. Weren’t they even going to try to get him clean through the simple method of attention and care? Klaus knew it wouldn’t work; he was too far gone to give up his coping method now. But to hear his siblings care, to see them wanting him to recover and offer him a place to stay. Just the offer. It would have been enough.

Instead, they were going to send him away through the easy route. Lock him up and hope for ‘specialists’ to fix him. They both knew no rehab center would be able to help him, none would be equipped to deal with his traumas. At best, he would be helped as a schizophrenic addict, which would be counterproductive. Klaus was constantly reminded of the veracity of his ghosts; he didn’t need people telling him that he was imagining them.

But somewhere, Klaus understood. He wouldn’t have wanted to deal with himself either.

Hence, he nodded with a face filled with defeat. He faked his gratefulness.

He was going to Rehab at age nineteen. Probably the first time of many to come.

⁂

Klaus had just been discharged from his second stint in rehab. It hadn’t worked. Of course, it hadn’t. His family had sent him to a new facility rising in popularity. They didn’t even give him a choice after his second overdose, just shipped him off as soon as he was recovered enough.

They’d booked him a place for one month. It was short, Klaus suspected his family couldn’t get it over their hearts to send him away for any longer against his will. Getting his signature this time had been hard enough already.

And this one month had been literal hell on earth.

The Center was new, still gaining a reputation. This meant they had a lot to lose. They’d been extremely strict; all drugs present in the Center had been tracked and were accounted for at all time. There were no secret desperate dealings, they just weren’t feasible.

According to Diego, the doctors and psychologist had been updated about his gift. They had been in the ‘known’.

Which was a fucking joke. They had ignored it as soon as the second day came around. Giving advice like “just imagine they are fake” or “ignore them” had been their idea of proper treatment. They’d been amateurs and Klaus had been the one suffering because of it.

In the end, the ghosts had been a constant presence. His tiny private room had been filled with ex-junkies hanging around the other addicts in the facility. They had thorn away at Klaus's sanity, ripped away every last part of Klaus’s motivation to sobriety.

Klaus’s discharge had been a liberation. Getting his small amount of money back created the first spark of hope he’d had in a while. Even Ben seemed glad that Klaus could finally get his hands on something again to alleviate the constant stress the ghosts put on him. Seeing Klaus in the unresponsive state he’d been in the last few days must have been horrifying for his brother.

And getting his hands on drugs was exactly what Klaus had done. Although Cocaine was probably not what Ben had been thinking of. The only problem with his desperation was that it had been noticed by the drug dealer, who had, consequently, ripped him off massively.

That’s where Klaus was now. High out of his mind, because the drugs had hit way harder after his month of abstinence, sitting on the wet ground of an abandoned ally. He’d no money left, no contacts or friends he’d spoken to since last month, and no food or place to stay the night. But above all, the stability of Klaus’s mind, his mental well-being, would not survive these drugs wearing off anytime soon. He’d to get his hands on a second dose.

Klaus needed money, and fast.

He’d promised himself and Ben that he would never do it. That if he would ever consider it, ever felt desperate enough to stoop so low even for his own standards, ever thought of discarding his own self-worth entirely, he would ask for help from his siblings.

But Klaus couldn’t, he couldn’t let his siblings see him like this. Stoned when he was just out of the rehab his siblings had paid for it.

He didn’t consult Ben, didn’t even dare tell him of his plan, afraid that the shame would consume him. He just followed the advice he’d gotten from other men and women in the business. People who he respected immensely and who he knew took pride in the business, for which Klaus admired them. It was just not something he had ever planned on doing himself. Still, he used the lessons he never thought he would need to recognize and seduce a John.

He offered only a blowjob, nothing more. When he got an eager nod in response, Klaus started rattling off his list of conditions, a list an experienced prostitute had helped him create. She’d told him that the most important thing when selling himself was making sure that all boundaries were understood beforehand. He didn’t know if he should have felt relieved or miserable when the man agreed.

Ten horrible minutes later Klaus was sitting against the wall of a dirty alleyway, silent tears running over his cheeks with a distressed Ben sitting next to him. He’d never felt more objectified, less cared for.

A hundred bucks had been stuffed in the pocket of his tight jeans. He didn’t know if he’d been cheap or had gotten more than he should have expected. He knew that most of the girls often asked five-hundred dollars for all the way. One-hundred dollars sounded better than he could have hoped for when he was visibly high and wouldn’t do more than a blowjob. The John seemed like a newbie anyway.

But it had cost Klaus more than he expected. He’d never hated himself more. He’d never felt so numb before. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shaky, and he’d officially pushed past his limit.

With a hysteric laugh, he summoned his wings to the visible plain. He hadn’t seen them in a while, hadn’t dared summon them in ages.

The relief that came with finally allowing his wings to come out was immediately overshadowed by the sight that met him. Bald spots were everywhere, a feather was fluttering to the ground as they spoke. But that wasn’t new, that was not what caught Klaus’s attention.

Tears started streaming from his eyes uncontrollably now. The sight horrifying Klaus. The once beautiful blue and purple -- his only pride and joy left -- were now streaked with red. Blood streaming from open wounds ripping through the length of both wings which had not been there twenty minutes ago.

Ben had been right.

His desperation had apparently cost him all self-respect left, his soul paying the price for his obstinate stupidity.

⁂

Klaus was sitting on a park bench eating his meager lunch when the picture in a trashed newspaper caught his attention. Filled with curiosity, he walked to the trashcan to fish out the old paper. It had been thrown away open on the review section.

His sister's face was staring right at him.

“ _Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven_ ” Klaus read confused. He looked at Ben, who was staring over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Vanya wrote that?”

“Seems like an autobiography,” Ben deadpanned.

Klaus huffed. “Yes, I can read, thank you. Did you know about this?”

Ben shook his head, “No, I haven’t checked up on her in a while. It seems to be a success, though.”

The cheap supermarket sandwich was forgotten as Klaus read through the rest of the review. Words like ‘revealing’, ‘scandalous’, and ‘abusive family’ immediately caught Klaus’s attention. What had Vanya revealed, what secrets had she given away?

The article told him that it the book was about all the members, including him. Why hadn’t Vanya asked permission? Klaus didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want his shame publicized to the world nor did he want the attention the book would bring to his name again. A cold fear emerged in his chest, slowly taking over his body. Klaus dreaded how he would be portrayal in this biography. 

“The library will probably have it. Let’s check it out,” Klaus murmured while throwing the newspaper back in the trash.

Because of the library’s location near the park, they arrived at the place in no time. After some searching, they found an available copy of the book at the place. Dropping down in the nearest seat, Klaus started the book hesitantly.

He immediately noticed the pattern in the book. Each chapter was devoted to the accompanying number, with a complex and lengthy introduction at the start about Vanya herself. Klaus didn’t have a lot of time; he’d already gotten some suspicious glances from the librarian. Not a surprise with the junky look he was sporting at the moment. 

He skipped to chapter four and started to read, Ben reading with him over his shoulder.

Every sentence hurt. They were like little hot knives stabbed right in the heart, each one aimed to hit home. The factual approach to his own life made it seem like it was written by an unknown observer, not his caring little sister.

She had no boundaries, no secret went too far, no description too cruel. According to her, he’d started off as a highly energetic kind-hearted boy. But his gift hadn’t been fulfilling enough. Apparently, that was enough reason for him to start making things up. His need for attention greater than his love and respect for his family. And as soon as he made up the lie of seeing Ben, his life had gone downhill.

She wasn’t afraid to write about his drug-addicted life. She wrote about his times in rehab, how he couldn’t make the sobriety last longer than his first day after a release from rehab.

Was this how Vanya, how his family, really perceived him. Was he no more than a burden placed upon them since birth?

The fact that most things after that cruel introduction were true probably hurt the most.

He understood where Vanya was coming from, he knew she was retelling their lives as truthful as possible. That was what has advertised after all. But not one of his siblings was portrayed kindly. Well, except Ben and Five. The gone ones who thus deserved the respect of not slandering their lives.

Did Vanya really resent them so much? Or had Klaus’s familial love always been unrequited?

The book did result in one thing though. Klaus never again asked his family for help, never again crashed on their couches uninvited. He knew now the burden he created; he would not play a part in adding weight to the shoulders of the ones he loved.

He loved his family, Vanya just illustrated how not to show that love.

Absentmindedly, he noticed a change to his back. His wings felt heavier than ever before. Klaus knew that if he summoned them now, he wouldn’t even be able to lift them. His wings were doomed to drag over the dirty floors, never able to present his impressive wingspan again.

⁂

Exhaustion had invited itself to inhabit Klaus’s body permanently. Who would have thought that overdosing before a family reunion for your dear father’s passing would be a dumb idea?

He should have gone for a more subtle high, one he could stretch over a few days. Not the one that came with an overdose; the one that gave him a mind-shattering euphoria before burning out to a brutal comedown.

Maybe if he hadn’t overdosed, he wouldn’t have even known his father died. He supposed he should thank the ambulance for not missing the funeral. Or he could resent them for not granting him the beautiful obliviousness he would have thrived in.

Now he was sitting on the couch in one of Allison’s skirts being suspected of killing his father. Which he couldn’t have done since he’d been in rehab at the time. Who did Luther think he was? That he held the record of avoiding dad by going off-planet didn’t mean that the rest of the family didn’t avoid the academy like the plague. Nobody had been close enough to kill dad in years.

Diego’s ebony wings appeared instantaneously, filling large parts of the room with his impressive wingspan. It was a gesture of intimidation but Klaus could only observe them with jealousy.

“Great job, Luther. Way to lead.” Diego responded to Luther’s accusations. The family watched wide-eyed as Diego walked out. Luther seemed to realize where he’d gone wrong, for he immediately backtracked.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he protested.

Klaus stood up with a chuckle. “You’re crazy, man. You’re crazy.” He swayed on his feet as soon as he got up, his balance non-existent with the constant heaviness and pain coming from the appendages on his back. The headache that had disappeared to the background, came back at full force. “Crazy,” he stressed while walking away with an intentional sway to divert the attention away from the unintentional ones.

The constant changes and hurt in his wings had affected his balance for a while now. His body wouldn’t adapt anymore.

“I’ve not finished,” he heard Luther say as he stumbled out of the room.

Klaus shook his head at his brother’s tact and naivety. “Okay, well, sorry, I’m just gonna go murder mom. Be right back,” he replied, giving Luther an uninterested wave with his Goodbye hand.

“That’s not what I was saying, I didn’t–” Klaus wasn’t interested in what Luther was going to say next. He heard silent footsteps coming up beside him as he stood in the hall watching Diego leave upstairs.

“How is life as a famous author?” Klaus asked Vanya as they watched Allison disappear upstairs as well.

“You read my book?” Vanya looked at him surprised.

“The book about our life, written by my sister? Stupid question, of course I read it!” Klaus replied with forced enthusiasm. He really was feeling worn out, but he wouldn’t pass on a conversation with Vanya.

“Did you like it?” Vanya asked, voice small and insecure.

“Can’t say I liked my chapter,” Klaus said with a shrug, he winced when he saw Vanya flinch at his answer. “But I did enjoy the chapters about the rest of our family. A lot. Might be a bit hypocritical of me though,” Klaus elaborated with a laugh. “Great idea, by the way, monetizing the family name!”

Vanya gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. A silence fell between the two. Klaus couldn’t have that, he hated silences with a passion. It gave his mind room to think.

“How is the violin teaching business? Not regretting teaching the tiny humans? Are they annoying? Screechy?” Klaus asked, mimicking playing the violin, and recreating the horrible screeches that came from a kid learning to play.

With a laugh, Vanya covered her ears. “Don’t remind me! I still remember when you tried the violin once. Traumatizing!” Klaus chuckled at the memory. His fond laughter fell silent when Vanya’s wings appeared. They were huge and a beautiful brown, a sign of strength. Yet, the way they drooped in insecurity contradicted the symbolization.

Having your wings out in the open at home wasn’t unusual. People often lost control over their wings when comfortable and talking to people they trusted. Keeping your wings out of the visual plane for long periods of time was the difficult part. Klaus would know, he’s an expert on the area.

However, Klaus wasn’t used to people showing their wings around him. Showing your soul was a huge vulnerability. It was something only done surrounded by family, friends, or lovers. Well for most people it was.

It was a sign of intimacy and trust. Klaus loved that Vanya still felt that way around him.

But there were also the people who took extreme pride in their wings, wearing them out in the open everywhere. Even in the supermarket. Which would probably have been normal for the human race once, Klaus supposes, considering keeping them invisible is uncomfortable and energy-consuming. Seems modern to make the impractical and hurtful way the standard.

Because then came human evolution, from which arose societal expectations. From the middle ages to approximately the 1950s it was deemed impolite to show your wings to anyone except your wife or husband when above the age of twelve. Batshit insane if you asked Klaus.

Still, that rule would have saved Klaus a lot of struggle nowadays. Because with those expectations came into existence the taboo of the damaged wings. According to society, someone who never shows their wings must be hiding something. Must have damaged their soul, something usually reserved to “the sinners”.

The theory had long since been debunked. War veterans often had very damaged wings because of the things they’d witnessed or lost, and they were perceived as heroes. Other traumas in your life could also have a large impact on the appearance of your wings, as could mental illnesses like anxiety or depression.

Yet, the negative associations never really disappeared. As a result, Klaus was going to be deemed unrespectful and strange when he kept his wings hidden during the memorial service. Luther was going to act all high and mighty, manipulating him through disappointment and anger.

Klaus would resist though, he had enough motivation to keep his wings safely hidden away, as he’d done for the entire year. Last year February was the last time he’d seen them or allowed them to appear. The constant ache, and ever-present tightness in his back a reminder of the restraints he put on himself.

Klaus looked again at the healthy wings of his sister. He gestured to them with a small wave, “You look good. Strong and Healthy.”

Vanya’s wings fluttered, briefly losing their droop and presenting their span instead. Vanya smiled self-consciously. “I didn’t even notice I had them out, sorry. But thank you Klaus, I’ve been feeling good.” Klaus grinned before pulling his sister into a tight hug.

“I’m glad, you deserve it.”

“You seem happy as well, Klaus. It’s good that you went to Rehab on your own initiative!” Vanya gestured to the medical band still on his wrist.

There was the forced smile again. Klaus’s hand went to the band automatically, instinct telling him to hide it, to hide the shame of his latest trip to Rehab failing again.

It didn’t feel as good as Klaus expected. There was no feeling of satisfaction when having it confirmed his mask was working. Instead, he felt worse. Was he such a good actor, or did his family not care to look past what he has displayed on the surface?

While in thought, Klaus barely noticed Vanya excusing herself to find Pogo. On muscle memory, he dragged himself upstairs to his childhood bedroom. He didn’t know what was going through his head, didn’t know what was bringing this on.

He quickly found himself standing in front of the full-sized mirror. He needed to see what reflection would meet him. He needed to know how others perceived him.

Slowly, his head rose. His eyelids felt heavy when he was about to open his eyes. As if he unconsciously knew he shouldn’t do this, knew no good things could come from this.

His eyes met the reflection of the green eyes looking straight at him.

They looked high.

They looked fake.

They looked haunted.

With a cry of pain, two wings burst from his back, chasing the freedom they were finally granted.

For the first time ever, Klaus truly saw himself. He saw the thin frame of a boy trying and failing to pass as a mature man. He saw his bright clothes trying to convey a faked indifference to an uncaring world. Klaus saw a damaged soul hiding too much pain.

His wings weren’t even trying to hold themselves up. Instead, they were dragging over the floor, never drying blood dripping from feather to feather. The once bright purple and blue were now a dull and depthless color, a measly imitation of what it was once. There were bare spots everywhere, skin showing through the miserable sight his wings presented.

His sobriety wasn’t the only thing the ghosts had taken from him; they’d also taken the beauty of his soul with them.

Wiping away an unwelcomed tear, Klaus forced his wings away again. He didn’t want to be confronted with the sight. Instead, he forced his smile on again. He built his walls upon again to show the world the uncaring attitude it was used to.

He would show his siblings a delusive serenity. They would never look closer, never notice anything amiss. For as long as this reunion would last, he would show them how happy he could be, only Ben would notice the difference.

A humorless chuckle escaped his mouth.

⁂


End file.
